


maybe in hell, there is a heaven

by coppertears



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Death March, Decapitation, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, Soldiers, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7145846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppertears/pseuds/coppertears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he's taking the long road towards hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
**maybe in hell, there is a heaven**  
pairing: kai/kyungsoo; multiple side pairings  
rating: r  
w: (highlight to read) swearing, dark themes (abuse, war crimes, torture, character death), lots of blood, decapitation

he's taking the long road towards hell.  
_please stay away if you cannot handle graphic scenes. this is a war!au. it’s not going to be pretty._  


 

 

the line of soldiers walking through the dusty roads seems to go on forever. it's only the second day and it's going to get longer, but exhaustion perches on their shoulders and consumes their bodies whole. no food, no water, no rest -- it's a flat-out path of deprivation, and there's nothing that can assuage the pain of what they're going through. there is no mercy here, and jongin is reminded of it one too many times when his comrades fall all around him and are left to decay by the wayside.

he closes his eyes and wills his feet to keep moving forward, to keep taking one step after another despite the blisters that are starting to form. he doesn't want to succumb right here, right now, not when there is no one to bury him and remember his name. at this point, all jongin can hope for is the possibility of maybe surviving this whole ordeal until reinforcements are sent and he can be saved. but that won't happen if he so much as pauses, if he shows any sign at all of weakness.

he licks his lips and ignores the heat that's drying up his throat, and he pushes away images of the last time he's eaten anything. he hears a guard's distant shout of "faster!" and the accompanying crack of a whip. jongin breathes in his fear and tries not to think of the scars scattered all over his body. he picks up his pace, not daring to look back and see if the one being punished is someone he knows.

it feels like they're suspended in time, like they're a picture left to develop in the dark -- like the only thing happening in the entire world at this moment is this hellish march towards death. the sun's rays are flames licking their bodies, and the guards are the demons sent to torture them every step of the way.

up ahead jongin sees someone stand still, his body going rigid while the other soldiers trudge on. jongin's heart quickens because he recognizes who this is, and right now there is bile sloshing around in the pit of his stomach because he knows what will happen next. there are maybe ten steps separating him from his best friend sehun, but the latter's surrender makes it feel like they're a thousand miles apart. it's a distance that jongin can't possibly cross, and he knows there is no way of saving sehun now.

sehun turns around, a defiant glint in his eyes, and he catches sight of jongin. he gives jongin an imperceptible shake of his head. the message is clear and it claws at jongin: _i give up_. jongin is moving and sehun is not, and jongin doesn't know how he can keep marching when sehun falls to his knees. it's a body that's not resisting the pull of gravity, not anymore.

jongin hears the gunshot, he sees the red blooming on sehun's military uniform, and death swoops in too fast before jongin is even prepared to see its shadow. the light in sehun's eyes is extinguished and he lies there, just another body destined to rot in anonymity, and jongin doesn't know how to mourn him. he can only keep marching, praying that the guards won't target him next; he can only whisper an apology to the wind when he steps in the pool of sehun's blood. the earth is stained with wasted life, and jongin knows that at any moment the same can happen to him. he sets his gaze to the horizon and tries not to wander through his memories, knowing it will only sap him of any determination he has left.

he has a brief flash of sehun's smile as sehun tells him that he's enlisting in the military. he remembers the first time sehun had worn his uniform, and his best friend had looked so damned happy. "i'll go up the ranks, you'll see," he remembers sehun saying. and it hurts because now sehun is an empty shell that won't ever smile or laugh again, and he's not going to be the five-star general he's always dreamed he would be.

jongin knows it hadn't been cowardice or exhaustion that had caused sehun to surrender. the way his best friend had turned to face the guard tells him it had been a protest against the loss of freedom, a silent outcry against the unjust treatment of the prisoners of war. sehun could have marched on -- he could have endured the hardships because sehun had always been the kind of person who never gave up. but sehun's also idealistic, and in the end he'd decided that he'd rather fall than continue to be treated less like a human and more like an animal. and jongin understands that even though he's screaming in his head. he understands, but he wishes sehun could have chosen to die in a different way -- one that won't leave jongin with nightmares where he replays sehun's death over and over again, trying to figure out a way to stop it when he knows that he's powerless.

so now he will carry the burden that sehun's left him all the way to end, and jongin thinks it's unfair but it's the only thing he can do for his best friend now. "rest in peace, sehun," he murmurs. and all the while he's still walking, he's still marching through the roads of hell, and jongin doesn't know if he's stupid or brave. but at times like this, stupidity and courage are almost one and the same.

 

 

 

 

 

his stomach churns with so much emptiness and his throat's three-quarters of the way through to being parched. jongin's trying to stay upright, the rope tying his wrists together marking pain on his skin, and his steps are faltering. the world's steadily fading to white, and the landscape's set in soft focus and chromatic aberration. jongin doesn't know where he's going anymore. he's relying too much on the camouflage-wrapped shapes stumbling ahead of him.

it starts raining when they cross a plain that's endless and flat. the ground turns to mud in seconds, staining jongin's uniform and shoes, and it's not long before he's soaked down to his skin and bones. the water's making it harder for him to see, the rain getting heavier and heavier as time passes. balance is a tricky thing now.

yelps and cries harmonize with the whistling of the wind as soldiers fall, one by one, falling prey to the slippery ground. jongin breathes in, but he doesn't look away fast enough. a soldier begins to shower one of the fallen soldiers with curses, the desire to murder etched into his features, and the butt of his rifle comes down hard. jongin doesn't know what air is. fear is a metallic taste left to linger on his tongue, and he averts his eyes from the man being punished. but he can't, he can't escape the desperation laced through the screams and sobs.

he can't escape the silence that comes after, aching with so much pain left unspoken; the silence that rings so loud despite the rhythmic rise and fall of feet, the squelch of mud, the sounds of orders being passed down the line.

he holds himself stiff and straight, determined to see this thing through. he refuses to die in this plain -- he refuses to die at all. but every uncertain step reminds him that he's too weak, and every soldier dropping to meet the dust tells him he might be the next.

it's many unknown hours later when they straggle into the yellow lights of a camp thrown together with haste. jongin bites back the familiar sting of tears. they're forced to stay in a canvas tent that's far too small to hold all of them, bodies tangled up with each other, and when jongin sits down he can feel the burn of the miles he's walked. his legs seem to go numb and it hurts so, so much, and all he wants to do is curl up in a corner.

his heart nearly breaks when food is passed around and all they get is a small hard lump trying to pass as a piece of bread, and a small metal bowl of thin soup. jongin swallows down the disappointment and takes what he's given. it takes just a few minutes to finish the food, and as they return the utensils, he thinks that it's only served to make him feel emptier than before.

they take turns below a leak in the roof of the tent, trying to drink as much rain water as they can. it doesn't look like they'll be given any clean, filtered water anytime soon.

guards are posted at the entrance of the tent, their eyes black with cruelty. "go to sleep!" one of them barks. "don't even think of escaping because we will shoot you down." with that, the gas lamps are turned off, and shadows steal across everyone.

jongin folds his body up and buries his face in his knees. as he drifts off to a sleep made restless by the memory of sehun dying, he wonders how much worse it will be tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

they wake up to a dawn of whips lashing out at them. jongin gasps as boots kick them and a hand yanks his hair, forcing him down on all fours. he stares at the floor of the tent, vision tunneling with the torture his body is going through, and he bites down hard on his lips when he's hit hard. he can feel his skin opening, can feel the wounds tearing up his back. it's too much for him to take.

"you can't escape that easily," a tall soldier says, his eyes the darkest in the room. he clicks his fingers. "look!"

a calloused hand forces jongin to look up and he grits his teeth. the guards from last night are dragging what looks like a pair of huge green lumps, and they throw them down a few feet away from him. with a jolt, jongin realizes that they're _bodies_ , and the bullet holes in their uniforms are all too visible. even more obvious is the scent of decay and the blood, still fresh, pouring out of them. jongin wants to vomit.

the tall soldier kicks the bodies. "let this be a lesson to all of you," he says, scanning the room, "never to disobey orders. we mean what we say."

it's only when he turns around that jongin recalls who he is. he's huang zitao, one of the best in field combat and also a high-ranking military official. sehun's counterpart in so many ways. jongin looks down and clenches his fists.

they leave the bodies to rot in the middle of the tent, once again deploying for a destination that's still being kept secret. jongin falls right back into the monotony of the march, trying not to mind the way his body complains, and he convinces himself that he can do this.

day becomes night and night becomes day, and they're only given breaks that last maybe less than fifteen minutes. more people try to escape. some are successful, disappearing into the wilderness long before they're discovered, but the majority are left to pile up by the roadside. jongin wants to believe the someone will come along and bury them. he knows it's unrealistic, though -- there's just far too many bodies and not enough kindness left in the world.

he continues to subsist on pieces of stale bread passed around, and he's grateful for the rain because it means he can drink. jongin knows his chances are too low. one day he'll slip and stumble; one day he'll succumb to sickness. he knows he's going to die. all he's doing is delay it.

but a thought sparks fierce and bright in the depths of his mind: if he _is_ going to die, he will be one of the last.

 

 

 

 

it happens six days later.

there is a storm plunging everyone deep in a cold that seeps into their veins and renders them immobile, and jongin slips up more times than he usually does. a breath shivers on its way out of his lips and he hasn't tasted neither food nor drink for days on end. his muscles seem to seize up as if they know what's coming, even though jongin tries to deny it and pushes the sensations away.

halfway through rocky ground, he stumbles on a smooth stone that blocks the path, and he falls to his knees. he tries to stand up again, but soon he realizes that his ankle's twisted. panic thrums in his chest and jongin tries, he tries so hard, but his feet fail him. he's down and he's never going to find a way out, and when a hand that's firm and heavy rests on his shoulder, he whispers a silent prayer for his own soul.

the punishment doesn't come. no crack of the whip, no butt of the rifle beating him senseless until he's face to face with oblivion. jongin struggles but the hand's still weighing him down.

"get up," a voice says in his ear. "the other commanders will see you soon. get up _now_."

"i can't," jongin chokes out and braces himself. "my ankle's sprained."

the weight on his shoulder vanishes. jongin closes his eyes and thinks of sehun's surrender, of his mother and father wearing smiles that say they know he's never coming home, of the chipped plastic soldiers sitting on his desk. and he realizes that everyone's said goodbye to him a long time ago, and he's the only one not prepared to let go.

he feels a pressure on his ankle and his pant leg being rolled up, and jongin stays still. then he's being tugged upward, his arm wound around shoulders too thin to carry the burden of his skeletal frame, and jongin's eyes flash open. he glances at the guy beside him and almost draws to a stop because he's much shorter than he is. long eyelashes flutter and then wide eyes are staring up at him before glancing away.

this is the enemy, jongin tells himself. there must be a catch here somewhere.

"i-i can walk," he says, and he attempts to detach himself. the guy holds on anyway, shooting him a look of pure exasperation.

"you can't even stand," he snaps as he adjusts jongin's arm. "just keep quiet and limp along. i'm doing you a favor by not killing you."

jongin is silent at that. the guy's raised a valid point. after a few seconds have passed, he asks, "why didn't you kill me?"

he's given a glance that speaks of bottled-up frustration. "do you ever keep quiet?"

jongin looks down at his feet. they continue like this for the next few miles, jongin hanging on to this guy's shoulders, until they finally reach camp. he's dropped off at the makeshift infirmary that reeks of uncured illnesses, and there's no attending doctor. instead, the guy makes jongin sit on a bed with rumpled blankets, and he tends to jongin's busted ankle.

"i'll come get you tomorrow," the guy says when he's done. "sleep here for the meantime. no one ever visits the infirmary, anyway, and you don't want the commanders seeing you like this." as they look at each other, jongin can hear what the guy's implying: _they'll have no qualms about killing you_.

he turns to leave, light spilling through the cracks when he pushes the door open. "wait," jongin says, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "what's your name?"

"why?" the guy raises his eyebrow at him. "it's not important."

"just...i need to know." his response falls flat, and to be honest jongin's not entirely sure either why he's asked for the guy's name. this isn't school where kids play together and introduce themselves freely. this is a war where jongin's side has lost, leaving him to suffer the consequences.

the guy considers him for a moment. "kyungsoo," he finally says. "my name is kyungsoo."

"oh." jongin wets his lips. "i'm --"

"you're kim jongin, i know." kyungsoo turns away. "go to sleep. i'll be back in the morning." the door closes and jongin lies there covered in black, listening to footsteps recede.

that night, he has no nightmares.

 

 

 

 

 

jongin shuffles in line the next morning, his ankle still protesting against the rigor of the march. kyungsoo doesn't speak or look at him the entire time he smuggles jongin past the watchful eyes of the guard. he's all brusque hands and poker-faced expressions as he pushes jongin behind a guy who seems to wilt in the heat.

his ankle's at least a tiny bit functional today, but it's still difficult to traverse the uneven ground. they're not moving through plains anymore, their course plotted straight into forests with paths that twist and turn, and often they come across obstacles. jongin does the best he can, trying not to put too much weight on his busted ankle. at least he's well within the established pacing.

they take a break in a clearing, and jongin sits against a tree as he stretches out his leg before him. he's supposed to keep it elevated, he knows, but he doesn't want to make his injury obvious. he stares at his mud-splattered boots and wonders how much more he can take.

he jumps a little out of his skin when someone approaches him. it's kyungsoo, his features taking on a neutral cast that jongin can't make heads or tails of, and he positions himself so that his body is blocking what he's doing.

"let me see," he murmurs, and the timbre of his voice makes jongin think of velvet. small, pale hands reach out and unlace jongin's shoes, and kyungsoo inspects his ankle for a few seconds. then he unwraps the gauze and applies some kind of ointment that's soothing upon contact, and he wraps the gauze around jongin's ankle again.

"why are you doing this?" jongin blurts out. he doesn't understand. there must be some kind of catch -- kyungsoo's still the enemy, and jongin is a prisoner he can exploit.

"don't ask so many questions," is kyungsoo's answer. "it's not your place to do so." he brushes off the dirt clinging to his pants and he walks away before jongin can so much as crack open his mouth.

they resume the march when the afternoon sun trickles through the slivers of space in the canopy above. jongin winces when they reach an area that's carpeted in rocks of different shapes and sizes, and he sees people stumble more than once. he can't afford that.

but the world insists on tripping him up.

his foot catches on a particularly sharp rock jutting up from the ground, and as jongin hits the ground hard he also feels the gash on his forearm. blood drips to the soil as he fights to push himself back up, all too aware that his moment of weakness is a red light flashing. this won’t go unnoticed.

out of nowhere, he's propelled forward by a kick that's powerful and vicious. a hand grabs him by the collar and jongin coughs because he can't find air all of a sudden. "is this what your army is made of?" a rough voice shouts in his ear. "weaklings who trip and stumble and lose their way? pathetic!" saliva hits him and jongin's face is shoved into the ground. he tastes dirt.

_no,_ he thinks, _no_. they're not pathetic. they're just broken and beyond help.

"let go of him," a familiar voice commands, cold and unamused.

"he's lagging --"

"he fell because of that rock." jongin stops the sob that's working its way past his teeth. " _fucking let go of him_."

"sir, yes sir." jongin's released from the choke hold and he raises his head, trying to get his oxygen level back to normal."but he's still a slacker --"

"everyone is a slacker to you," kyungsoo says. "let him be. if we keep this up, we'll only end up killing everyone. what would be the point then?"

more huffs and grunts and muttering, and then jongin's helped to his feet. "thank you," he whispers to kyungsoo.

"be more careful," kyungsoo replies. "i don't like spending effort just to save someone like you." and the shorter guy disappears into the crowd forming behind jongin.

as dusk bleeds on the bark of the trees around them, jongin makes it a point to never trip on a single thing. he’s not sure he wants a repeat performance of what happened.

 

 

 

 

 

they settle around a bonfire that affords more cold than warmth, sometime when the blurry shapes in the dark disappear altogether even in the fraction of moonlight that makes it through the trees. everyone crams themselves in circles radiating outwards, with the officers and guards hemming in the ring. jongin tries to relax.

as the usual piece of stale bread is passed around, however, he realizes that something's happening. the guards are carrying long, thick chains of iron and handcuffs, and the sight makes jongin want to run. he wants to let himself be shot down because this is too much -- this is when his dignity crumbles to pieces that will never be recovered.

his suspicions are confirmed when a guard -- different from the one who'd abused him a while ago -- shoves a piece of bread in his hands and proceeds to lock his wrists together. jongin knows better than to protest but inside he wants to break out of his skin, to make the iron melt, to let the world know that sometimes being imprisoned without any hope of freedom is worse than death. he breathes in his anger and chews the bread he's been given, feeling it slide dry and tasteless down his throat.

he looks around at the faces of the men around him, lined with exhaustion and defeat. the numbers have dwindled now. he remembers an army of more than 5,000 young men standing tall and straight and proud, ready to defend their country. at this moment, jongin will be surprised if they can even reach a thousand. he wonders how he's managed to survive for this long.

the bonfire flickers a light orange, dying in the night. jongin stares up, and even after all this time, he's still trying to find stars. he's searching for hope in the midst of desolation and it doesn't want to be found, but jongin holds on. he doesn't even know what he's hoping for, not anymore. freedom is a myth left to scatter on winds ready to break one's will, and jongin thinks that all he's looking forward to is a death sentence that's been served at the beginning of the march.

he rolls over on his side, pillowing his head in his arm and trying to find sleep. it escapes him, flitting away to some unknown place that leaves jongin restless and aching, and he thinks he imagines the sound of someone singing. the voice is bright and clear even in its hushed tones, and it's coming from somewhere behind him. jongin dampens his curiosity, telling himself that it's really none of his business, but soon he's rolling over to see a man with his face turned up to the heavens.

the man's face is all sharp lines and hard angles and slashes of beauty, and jongin conjures a faint image of seeing sehun talk to this man once -- of crinkled eyes and a jaw pried open by careless laughter, in a mess hall back when they still had a prayer of winning the war. he looks at the man now and listens, savoring the voice that's spilling prettiness all over a world that's been tainted with the ugly and the bad.

it's an old song, one that jongin can't put a finger on, but it's comforting all the same. it's a melody that's fit for sunshine-streaked days when the flowers are abloom and his parents are in the next room, and jongin's left with the ancient radio that plays too much static sometimes.

when the man stops singing, jongin almost wants to tell him to continue. but then he realizes what he's been doing and he flushes.

he doesn't expect a hand to poke him lightly, the man turning to face him. there is a wound running diagonal down his cheek and bruises on his neck, and jongin wonders what he himself looks like.

"i wanted to be a singer," the man whispers. jongin stares at the light that's dim, unreachable in the guy's irises. "but the war came and i had to put my country above everything else. do you know the song i was singing?"

jongin shakes his head, keeping his ears pricked for any movement that might indicate a soldier is coming to inspect them.

"i don't, either," the man says, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "i just heard it and liked it. it plays in my mind whenever we march." he hums a little. "my name's jongdae. what's yours?"

"jongin," jongin murmurs.

"i know it's useless, exchanging names," jongdae admits. "but it makes me feel better that if i die, at least there will be someone who'll know what my name is, at least."

jongin bites his lip. "what if we die together, though?"

a look settles in jongdae's eyes, one that is unreadable and depthless and laden with emotion. "no, i think you'll last longer than i ever will."

and before jongin can ask what he means, a crunch resounds a few paces away from them. it's a conversation that is forever cut off and can never be picked up again. so as jongdae's eyes flutter closed, jongin does the same.

 

 

 

 

he doesn't keep a tally, but around eight days into the march, they stumble across a stream of clean, flowing water. jongin steels himself. even though the clear blue is so tempting, even though he's only drunk rainwater so far, he takes a step back. jongdae seems to be thinking along the same lines as he does because he steps back as well, mouth pursed and eyes hard. this can only be another form of torture.

"look at it!" tao says, a mischievous smile playing across his face. his dark eyes glint with a joy that's almost animalistic and predatory in nature. a whip is curled around his hands. "doesn't it make you thirsty?" one of the guards give him a metal cup and he bends down, catching water with grace. he makes a show of drinking it, tipping his head back and swallowing, and jongin can almost feel the dry grit of sand on his tongue.

jongdae gives him a small, almost imperceptible nudge. jongin closes his eyes and breathes, just breathes, before opening them again to see tao smirking at them.

"do you want to drink?" tao approaches a scared-looking recruit that seems caught between boy and man, his features effeminate. _luhan_ , jongin's brain reminds him. luhan, the one sehun had told him about on quiet nights, his cheeks tinted pink with suppressed admiration as jongin had teased him. luhan, a paradox of delicacy and strength, who now stands cowed and defeated before tao.

"sir, no sir," luhan says, voice firm despite the anxiety stealing its way into his eyes. he's staring straight ahead.

"are you sure?" tao cocks an eyebrow at him. the fingers of his right hand trace the line of luhan's jaw, his other hand shaking the cup in front of luhan's eyes. luhan nods, once. tao examines him for a moment. "mmm, you're pretty." his last statement is quiet but it carries over to jongin and he freezes.

sehun used to call luhan _beautiful_.

tao steps back and jongin fixes his gaze on the trees growing by the other side of the river. he's seething for some reason, images of his best friend flashing in vivid frame-by-frames in his head, and he can't escape them. even if he wants to he can't forget, because there are remnants of sehun scattered everywhere; there is a piece of sehun in every face he sees, and jongin's been denying it but now it's clear. his best friend will cling to him until the end.

"we will stay here until sunset," tao declares, and his voice shakes jongin out of his reverie. "you will stand here beside this stream. no one is allowed to drink."

there are poorly-controlled gasps rising from the line of soldiers. jongin's hands curl into fists, the metal of the handcuffs biting cold on his skin, and he shares a glance with jongdae. they both hadn't expected anything less. it's still jarring, though, the way tao continues to play with them and mock them. if tao and his army had been the ones who'd lost and become prisoners of war, jongin doubts their side would have been this cruel.

he prepares himself for long hours of waiting, making sure not to put too much pressure on his ankle because it's not fully healed yet. jongin knows he can endure this despite how tempting the stream looks -- he's always been one of the more disciplined ones. but he's not sure how everyone else will handle it, how they'll be able to ignore the fresh water flowing in front of them, ready for anyone to drink. they've marched in the fierce heat for a long time, and by now everyone's more than a little fatigued and dehydrated.

it feels like they're dominoes arranged in neat rows, and anyone can fall over any second. from the corner of his eye, jongin sees kyungsoo arguing with tao, sees the way the shorter guy's nose wrinkles in displeasure. he can hear snatches of their conversation.

"...stop this, tao, it's madness. we have to get going."

"calm down, kyungsoo. why must you always be a stick in the mud?"

"tao --"

"i'm in charge here, kyungsoo."

at this, kyungsoo keeps his mouth shut, but frustration swirls in his eyes. jongin turns his gaze away, not sure what to make of the entire exchange he's just overheard.

he's about to adjust his position because his body's aching when, in half a heartbeat, someone breaks out from the ranks with a cry. it's like everything's occurring in slow motion, then, and jongin's pulse is an erratic beat wanting to slither out of his skin. beside him, a groan issues from jongdae's mouth.

"minseok," jongdae whispers, uttering the name like it's a plea. "minseok, _why_?"

even though he knows what's going to happen next, jongin doesn't think he can look anywhere else. he watches as minseok rushes to the stream, desperation clear in his movements, throwing himself into the water so he can drink. he watches the sick smile that grows like a plague on tao's features, the tall commander seeming to thrum with excitement.

minseok manages no more than three gulps before a sword, its blade winking with evil in the harsh sunlight, is drawn from its sheath attached to the waist of tao's uniform. fear is long gone, replaced only by the instinct to drink. he never sees it coming but jongin does. jongin does, and it will haunt him forever, this picture: tao's sword cutting off minseok's head, as if minseok's neck were butter yielding to the sharp blade. in seconds, the blue of the water is stained with red, minseok's body drifting down to join the rocks covering the bottom of the river. tao spears the head with the tip of his sword and brings it up, raising it like some sort of flag even as blood drips down the silver.

"this is what happens when you don't follow orders," he says, a smirk curling the corners of his lips upwards. "because of this, no one is allowed to eat for the next 24 hours. his head will serve as a warning for all of you."

bile sloshes in jongin's stomach but there's nothing he can do about it, dragging himself back into the rhythm as they resume marching. ahead of him, jongdae's shoulders shake with fury and sadness, and when jongin sidles next to him, he can see the tears lurking beneath jongdae's observant eyes. he says nothing, instead offering a silent prayer for minseok's soul while trying not to think of the man's wretched fate.

later, as night cloaks them and jongin can feel the extent of his own weakness, kyungsoo comes to him. the shorter man's lips are pursed as he slips bread into jongin's hand. "share them with your friend," he murmurs, gaze never quite resting on jongin.

"why?" jongin asks, the warmth of the bread seeping into his veins.

kyungsoo shakes his head. "this isn't how it's supposed to be," he says, volume low. "tao's being too much. i want to save as many prisoners as i can."

and that's when it hits jongin, the irony of the situation. the small smile he arranges on his face feels pathetic. "save us for what? slaughter?"

he's given no reply. kyungsoo moves away, rejoining the other guards, leaving jongin with his little secret. jongin moves back to where jongdae is sitting, looking so small in the dimming light, and he offers him the bread when no one is looking.

"where --"

"take it," jongin says. "just take it and eat it. don't ask questions."

jongdae stalls then nods, taking a chunk of the bread. jongin does the same, both of them swallowing the bread in seconds, and it's not much but it's more than enough.

as they turn in for the night, bodies gathered close and heaped upon each other because there's never any space, jongin finds the courage to ask: "was minseok your friend?"

jongdae lips quiver. "no," he says, after a guard's passed by them. "he was...the closest thing i ever had to a brother."

nothing else follows his words.

 

 

 

 

jongin dreams of faces. he dreams of sehun in the moments before he'd fallen, giving up everything he had. he dreams of the corpses piling up wherever they go, of the soldiers who are lost and are never found, of himself being buried alive six feet under the ground with tao pouring dirt into his open mouth. he wakes up with his heart running and panic crawling through his veins, and he spends the minutes before daybreak just watching the way splotches of color appear on the black-and-white canvas of a waking world.

the march continues, both endless and aimless, and sometimes jongin wonders how bad it is to dissolve into dust. his ankle's healed and his wounds have long since become scars forever imprinting pain on his body. he's grown used to the punishments that are often done without reason, to the manic glint in tao's eye whenever a soldier drops out.

at night, he and jongdae fill the silence with memories, lifting the vessels of their lives and pouring it into the other. there is a pact left unsaid, a pact to remember each other's story in a world that is likely to forget them. jongdae's songs are rare now, and it's becoming more dangerous to let careless melodies drift when everyone's asleep.

they're all caged in almost every way possible.

kyungsoo continues to aid him and jongin still doesn't know why. he can't give any token of his gratitude and kyungsoo doesn't ask him for one, instead sneaking jongin pieces of bread and sometimes sips of water. and soon, soon it becomes irrelevant why kyungsoo's doing all this, because jongin learns that kyungsoo does what he can for the prisoners. maybe he's rebelling, maybe he's foolish, maybe he's just a kind-hearted officer amongst those with rotting souls. jongin's not in any place to judge him, and if this entire thing is an act, he can't bring himself to care.

on one of the times they set up camp, he and jongdae meet a frail little thing named baekhyun. baekhyun is starshine skin and shattering eyesmiles, his body always trembling with fear. like jongdae, baekhyun's a singer, and he lets his husky tone sing an obscure melody after much prodding.

he's older than both jongin and jongdae, but still he's so small.

"do you think they'll set us free when we reach wherever we're going?" baekhyun asks as they eat their usual stale bread.

"no," jongin says, at the same time that jongdae murmurs, "i don't think so."

baekhyun's lips form a straight line and he continues chewing. "i don't even know why i keep hanging on," he confesses.

jongin knows why he's survived up to this point. he knows it's because he's never been one to surrender. the thought is repulsive to him, somehow -- he'll die either way, but he prefers dying when he's reached the end and not before that.

he keeps this thought to himself as jongdae shrugs and baekhyun's gaze is clouded with uncertainty.

one of the tall guards approaches them then, his movements fast and urgent. he hauls baekhyun up by the arm, startling jongin and jongdae, and jongin almost leaps to his feet. almost. jongdae tugs him back down and he watches as the guard cusses baekhyun out.

"you rascal," he hisses. "come with me!"

jongin doesn't know what's going on. he watches as the guard pulls baekhyun away, the smaller guy's features twisted in confusion as he's led roughly out of the tent.

what puzzles jongin is the lack of fear in baekhyun's expression.

"what do you think's going to happen to him?" jongin asks jongdae, worried. "what did he do?"

jongdae swallows his bread, and he's only just cracking his lips open when jongin feels a rough tug on his hair and he's yanked upwards.

"play along," kyungsoo whispers in his ear. then, his tone angry, he barks, "did you think you could get away with it?!"

jongin whimpers, more from the pressure on his scalp than anything else. kyungsoo seems to notice this because he loosens his hold a bit. "what -- what are you --"

"no excuses!" kyungsoo practically yells. he begins to drag jongin in the same direction as the other guard had dragged baekhyun, and jongin glances at jongdae. jongdae's features are blank, so blank, and jongin's scared. he doesn't know what's going on.

just before they pass through the tent flap, jongin sees jongdae being accosted as well.

the night air hits him then. it's been suffocating and hot inside the tent, what with everyone crammed on top of one another, and jongin's nearly forgotten the concept of personal space. but now he's reminded of it as the breeze picks up and tousles his hair, and he's vaguely aware of how grime coats him from head to toe. it's a wonder his wounds haven't been infected yet.

they enter one of the cabins reserved for the officers of the enemy's military arm, and jongin barely contains his shock when he sees baekhyun wrapped in the tall guard's arms. he glances at kyungsoo but kyungsoo's not even in the slightest bit surprised, tugging jongin to a chair and making him sit. jongdae stumbles in maybe five minutes after, hanging on to the arm of another officer that jongin recognizes as the one in charge of first aid and medication.

"is tao in the tent?" the tall guard asks, his voice deep and smooth. baekhyun peeks over his embrace and a faint smile graces his face when he sees jongin and jongdae.

"he's coming," kyungsoo says as he opens a box and rummages inside it.

"sometimes i don't know if he's pleased or angry because of the escapees," the medical officer says as he fusses over the scar on jongdae's cheek. "one minute he's shouting at everyone and the next he has a smirk on his face."

"it's both, yixing," kyungsoo says, and jongin contains a stray yelp when the shorter guy pulls off his shoe and unwinds the old gauze. "he _is_ angry, but he's also pleased because there is someone he can torture."

"i don't know why kris doesn't do anything about it," the tall guard says, absent-mindedly carding his fingers through baekhyun's hair. "in fact, why do we let him? his rank isn't..." he cuts off his train of thought, a troubled look on his face. baekhyun looks up at him and something seems to pass between them.

"this isn't how it's supposed to be," yixing says, now bringing out mugs and filling them with hot water. "we were just ordered to transport them to that camp and nothing more, but tao's treating this as a chance to kill everyone."

at the word _kill_ , the tall guard's hold on baekhyun seems to tighten, and even yixing's gaze lingers on jongdae longer than it should. jongin looks down and sees the crease in kyungsoo's forehead as he binds new gauze around jongin's busted ankle.

"it's senseless," kyungsoo murmurs. "it's senseless and unnecessary." when he stands up, jongin catches the sadness that's painted all over kyungsoo's face -- and a hint of something else, of something undefined as his thumb traces the new wound marring the right side of jongin's face.

"we have to go back," yixing says, though his hand continues to rest on jongdae's shoulder. "he'll be suspicious that the three of us are missing all at once."

kyungsoo nods. "they'll be safe here. we'll just have to turn off the lights."

"chanyeol," baekhyun murmurs as he extricates himself from the taller guy's embrace.

"you'll be all right," chanyeol says, and jongin's almost convinced it's a trick of light when the guard leans down to press a kiss on baekhyun's forehead. "we'll be back soon, don't worry."

yixing whispers something in jongdae's ear that's too low for jongin to catch. kyungsoo turns to jongin and his words are soft, warm.

"i know you still don't understand," kyungsoo says, and jongin's drowning in the sincerity that's emerging in kyungsoo's eyes, "but believe me when i say that not everyone condones tao's actions. we do what we can."

jongin stares at him, their gazes intersecting for the first time, and he still doesn't understand. but he's slowly beginning to, and as kyungsoo extinguishes the light coming from the gas lamps, jongin scans through all the events of the past few days. one by one, the guards leave the cabin, and they all hear the telltale _click_ of the lock.

when they rejoin the line in the morning, they find out that another punishment's been dealt out. the three of them share looks then glance back down. and maybe, maybe jongin still doesn't understand why kyungsoo's being kind -- why chanyeol and yixing are being kind -- but he can't help the guilt that overwhelms him.

they'd been safe in the cabin while everyone else had suffered, and although jongin knows the three guards can't protect everyone, it weighs heavy on his conscience all the same.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
**maybe in hell, there is a heaven**  
pairing: kai/kyungsoo; multiple side pairings  
rating: r  
w: (highlight to read) swearing, dark themes (abuse, war crimes, torture, character death), lots of blood, decapitation

he's taking the long road towards hell.  
 _please stay away if you cannot handle graphic scenes. this is a war!au. it’s not going to be pretty._  


it's another blazing afternoon leaking orange into the clouds, and jongin wonders why they've come to a stop. baekhyun rests his forehead between jongin's shoulder blades for a second that flies past all too soon.

"what's going on?" jongin asks jongdae, glancing around for any guard who might come near and hit them.

"we're meeting kris," jongdae answers, maintaining his gaze on the heads of the people in front of him.

jongin's heard about kris several times in the conversations that chanyeol, yixing and kyungsoo have. all he's picked up is that kris seems to be the head of everyone and in charge of transporting the prisoners to a yet-unnamed camp. the thought that he's right here, right now, fills jongin with both apprehension and curiosity.

"attention!" tao barks, his own posture erect like he's being held together by a stiff wire.

jongin's body reacts to the command and he straightens, staring straight ahead though he is unable to perform the standard salute. he hears the murmurs coming from the guards all around them, and in the edges of his vision, he has the impression of a tall man sporting blonde hair. medals hang from his uniform, glittering in the fading sunlight.

"why are they so skinny?" kris asks, and jongin thinks that his voice is deep like chanyeol's but also more guttural, rougher in tone. "we have enough food, don't we?"

"yes, but some prisoners stole most of the rations and ran away," tao says with a poker face. jongin bristles at the blatant lie but he holds his tongue.

"really?" kris raises an eyebrow and eyes tao for several minutes. tao doesn't waver. there's an entire conversation held in those gazes, and kris moves on with a pronounced frown on his face. "you didn't tell me there were a lot of pretty faces here, taozi," he says instead and tao seems to stop breathing at the nickname. at the implications running beneath the use of that nickname.

jongin's eyes widen as kris pulls luhan forward. in the past few days, luhan looks like he's lost what little flesh there is clinging to his frame, and jongin swallows down a sudden wave of concern. luhan stands with fisted hands trapped within metal handcuffs. his pale skin doesn't look like it's been broken or abused, but a sick thought occurs to jongin when he remembers the way tao had called luhan _pretty_.

the possibilities rage in his head when he sees the way tao's eyes burn with an anger that's only just kept in check, as kris circles luhan and drinks him in from head to toe. "i like him," he announces, a callous smile on his lips. "he looks like he'd be --"

"you don't want him," tao says, voice lashing out like a whip. jongin sees how luhan winces. "he's trash."

"so you're not yet through with him?" kris asks. everyone seems to hold a breath, then, at the accusation that is not quite stated.

tao's eyes are dark as coal. kris throws his head back and laughs, making a show of telling luhan to rejoin the line. he continues pacing past the prisoners of war, examining them with eyes almost as black and as desolate as tao's.

"don't worry, taozi," he says. "i won't choose him. but maybe..." and jongin sucks in a breath when kris stops in front of him, sucks in a mad wish that kris would keep going. the world is standing still. "maybe i'll choose _you_." the words are almost caressed by kris' tongue, his finger hooking jongin's chin and making him tilt his face up. "you're a little worse for wear, but nothing too major." his breath fans hot on jongin's face.

"kris."

the way kris' name is uttered is loaded with nothing short of an explosion, and jongin knows with every fiber of his being that it's kyungsoo. it's kyungsoo coming up next to him, tiny hand wrapping around jongin's elbow and pulling him flush against his smaller frame, and kris lets jongin go with some amusement.

"ah, so you've claimed this one then, little kyungsoo?" kris smirks. "what a surprise."

kyungsoo doesn't answer, his fingernails digging into the inside of jongin's elbow. jongin keeps his gaze planted on the horizon.

"well, i suppose i'll let this one go since you've never laid claim on anyone before. i'll just have this one then," kris says, shrugging his shoulders and settling on baekhyun. jongin can see the way that baekhyun's shaking despite keeping his posture straight and stiff, and kris has barely laid a hand on him when chanyeol's blocking him. they size each other up, chanyeol's hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

"he's spoken for," chanyeol all but growls at kris.

"mmm, i can see that." this time, kris' words are devoid of any malice. "well, he's yours." he moves on, scanning the rest of the line, but no more soldiers catch his interest. still, kyungsoo doesn't let go of jongin, staying by jongin's side even when they resume marching. chanyeol's not leaving baekhyun anytime either, shadowing the shorter guy's steps with a cold gleam in his eyes.

when jongin looks around for yixing, he sees him just a few steps to the right of jongdae.

"what was that, a while ago?" jongin asks kyungsoo when the troops take a break. "what was kris doing?"

"what did it look like he was doing?" kyungsoo snaps and jongin flinches back. kyungsoo's neutral most of the time, even when he's in a foul mood, and this is the first time he's taken it out on jongin. his reaction doesn't go unnoticed and kyungsoo seems to calm himself down a bit, pressing fingers to his temples. "jongin, you are a prisoner of war that happens to be good-looking, and kris is looking for someone to warm his bed." the sentence is laced with disgust.

"so what did he mean that you claimed me?" jongin presses. it's just one little push -- one little push and he'll understand kyungsoo's motives.

"i claimed you," kyungsoo says, pushing a piece of bread in jongin's hands. "i _claimed_ you, what do you think it means?" his eyes seem to burn him, to see through his soul, and jongin's a few degrees shy of flushing.

he looks down at the piece of bread in his hands. kyungsoo sighs and covers his hands with his own, white skin a contrast to jongin's sunburnt brown complexion. "don't think about it too much," he says. "i had to say it."

"but aren't i safer?" jongin blurts. he's still pushing, still digging for that answer, and his suspicions need to be confirmed or disproved.

a nameless emotion flickers in kyungsoo's eyes. he draws close close _closer_ , until they're only a breath apart, and jongin feels a bit heady. his gaze flickers down to kyungsoo's lips and then back up to his wide eyes. "do you want to be kris' property?" kyungsoo hisses. "do you want to be his slave, to clean his office night and day? do you want to be _fucked_ to oblivion until blood comes pouring out of you, until you're a mess on the floor, until you're nothing but another body that he'll tire and get rid of? is that what you want, jongin?"

silence comes between them. jongin's aware that some people are watching them, that even though they're talking in hushed whispers they've still caught others' attention, but it's as if he and kyungsoo are alone. as if they're riding a boat left to drift off into the open sea, far from anyone's reach.

"no," jongin says, the word dying on his lips. "but is that what he thinks you're going to do to me?"

kyungsoo's drained of any emotion then. he draws back, just a little, and he looks like he's so, so tired. "yes." he lets go of jongin's hands and stands up. "finish your food."

there is another question that nags at the back of jongin's mind, a question that goes unanswered as they begin to pack up: _are you going to do it_?

something tells him that the answer is _no_. but as he looks at kyungsoo's impassive face later, jongin's not so sure.

 

 

 

 

through the next few days, kyungsoo and jongin seem to morph into one body. kyungsoo's forever hanging around him, radiating an aura of possessiveness that drives off most of the other guards and causes kris to chuckle when he sees the two of them. he comes near jongin once, eyes undressing the beaten soldier, and kyungsoo's eyes flash with a warning that amuses kris. he leans down and whispers something in kyungsoo's ear, and pink spreads over kyungsoo's cheeks.

"what is it?" jongin asks when kris is heading back to the front. "what did kris say?"

kyungsoo shakes his head and makes jongin return to the line. "it's nothing important."

he's becoming more and more comfortable with kyungsoo. as time peels away, leaving only a layer of innumerable tomorrows in its wake, jongin realizes that kyungsoo's never had bad intentions. he, chanyeol and yixing are among the handful of officers who disagree with tao's methods. more than once jongin sees the three of them stepping in when the abuse is too much, although he knows they're powerless when tao is around. the moment the dark-eyed commander takes a shine to terrorizing the marchers without kris to rein him in, kyungsoo just pulls jongin away. he has enough power to do that at least, and though tao sends him a look of contempt, he ignores it. jongin keeps his head down.

sometimes when kyungsoo tends to the cuts and scrapes that mar jongin's body, he sees a glimpse of the person behind the uniform. he sees the man who dislikes abusing people, who's fighting a war but is looking for a peaceful surrender, who sneaks food to those who need it most. he doesn't know why he's become kyungsoo's pet of sorts, why kyungsoo's decided to claim him out of everyone, but jongin doesn't distrust him anymore.

maybe it's the tint of innocence that settles on kyungsoo's features when he speaks of stopping tao from committing mass murder. maybe it's how his hands are soft on jongin's skin as he applies ointment and utters soothing words when jongin cringes. maybe it's the kindness in his deeds that contrast his position in the military, the way kyungsoo wears a mask more frigid than anything else even as he tries to nurse a fallen soldier back to health.

jongin asks _why?_ and there's never an answer, but by now he thinks he knows. maybe he's known all along.

it doesn’t make things any easier, though.

 

 

 

 

 

 

their last stop before their final destination is a camp that's more established than any of the previous ones. there's a large building filled with bunk beds for the prisoners, and the bread this time is fresh and accompanied by small bowls of soup. but though everyone allows themselves to rest and release the tension, coiled tight like a spring in their systems, they know there's something coming. this is only the calm before the storm.

right after dinner, jongin is pulled aside by kris. he gathers whatever courage he can find, knowing that kyungsoo's probably preoccupied and he's on his own, and kyungsoo's words roar back to life in his thoughts. kris engages him in small talk and jongin answers in monosyllables, his guards up and not going down anytime soon.

he's brought to a building where jongin knows the officers stay, and kris notices the frown on his face. "oh, don't worry," he says in that rough voice of his. "i'm just delivering you to your owner." he chuckles, and a chill slips through jongin when he realizes who kris means. he doesn't have any chance to protest because soon kris is knocking on a door and kyungsoo's opening it, dressed down in a simple shirt and jeans because it's almost time for lights off, and he blinks up at kris with bleary eyes.

"what is it?" he asks, eyebrows knitting together.

"thought you might like a present," kris says, and the frown on kyungsoo's face deepens. then kris is shoving jongin in kyungsoo's arms and kyungsoo is blinking in shock, stumbling backwards into his room, and kris closes the door. the lock clicks shut.

 

kyungsoo extricates himself from jongin and rattles the doorknob to no avail. they're locked in. "kris!" he shouts, ramming a shoulder against the door.

"enjoy!" kris shouts back, and they can hear his laughter as he walks away.

kyungsoo turns to jongin and drops wearily on a nearby chair. "sorry," he says, running a hand through his hair. "kris..." he doesn't finish the sentence, instead sighing loudly.

jongin frowns. kyungsoo's only ever been calm and collected, maybe tense at times, but always put together. seeing how vulnerable he is right now makes his chest ache, and before he can tell himself that it's not his place, he's squatting down so he's level with kyungsoo. jongin reaches out and cradles kyungsoo's jaw and kyungsoo blinks at him, lips parting with shock.

"you look tired." jongin swallows at how soft kyungsoo's cheek feels. "you should rest."

"i--yeah, it's because of the march," kyungsoo stutters. then, as if he can't bear to see jongin's face anymore, he looks away. "you're tired, too. we're all tired."

"kyungsoo."

"what?" kyungsoo asks, frustration bleeding into his tone. his chest rises and falls with every breath.

"what am i supposed to do?"

"nothing," kyungsoo bites out. "you're supposed to do nothing, jongin, just go to sleep." his hand reaches up and pries jongin's fingers from his jaw. it doesn't escape jongin's attention that kyungsoo's shaking.

"what's wrong, kyungsoo?"

"nothing's wrong," kyungsoo insists. "for heaven's sake, jongin, just go to sleep."

jongin considers this for a second. "but what about you?"

"don't worry about me," kyungsoo says. "worry about yourself."

and jongin doesn't anticipate his next words, doesn't know they're coming out until they're left to hang awkwardly in the air: "i can't help but worry about you when you're like this."

he hears the breath that kyungsoo takes in, ragged and disbelieving. they stare at each other, memorizing the other's features, mapping out the different ways to make this situation less awkward than it already is. kyungsoo is the first to break away, gaze flickering over everything but jongin, and his fingers twist and fold with nervousness.

"you're sleep-deprived, jongin, you can take the bed."

jongin's fatigued. he's fatigued and maybe he's more sluggish than usual, but he knows he's being honest. "i'm still mentally alert, kyungsoo," he says, "and i meant what i said."

"jongin," kyungsoo says, and his voice is just a fragment of sound now. "jongin, _please_. don't make this difficult. just go to sleep."

"then sleep with me," jongin suggests boldly, not even questioning where he gets the guts to say those words. he tugs kyungsoo up with him and starts for the bed, but kyungsoo digs in his heels and resists.

"what -- what are you saying," kyungsoo says. "let me go, jongin, i'm not going to --"

and jongin doesn't know why tonight he's fed up with the lies. he's fed up with pretenses and feelings left to gather dust, with dancing around in circles looping around each other. in seconds, he's pinned kyungsoo against the wall. it's the first time jongin's felt powerful, and he draws closer to kyungsoo until only an inch of space separates them, and jongin's drowning in the brown of kyungsoo's eyes.

"why?" jongin asks, voice quiet. "are you afraid of something?"

kyungsoo's eyelashes flutter and he shakes his head. "no."

"then prove to me that's true," jongin says. he’s so close that his nose is skimming kyungsoo’s forehead. "sleep with me."

when kyungsoo speaks, his voice is hoarse. "i can't."

"why not?" jongin's confused, trying to decipher the emotions shifting through kyungsoo's features.

"isn't it obvious?" kyungsoo almost sounds pained. "after all this time, _isn't it fucking obvious_?"

and jongin must be dumb because he doesn't get it, he still doesn't get it, and kyungsoo's answer can mean so many things --

but jongin's not given the chance to list them down because kyungsoo's tugging him down roughly, and jongin groans as kyungsoo's lips fit perfectly against his. tiny hands paint trails of fire on his skin as they slip under his shirt, tracing the contours and planes of his body, and jongin's finding it difficult to breathe.

it's slow and sweet and yet all too devastating, the way kyungsoo kisses him, as if this were both their first and their last night. they've been building up to this moment for some time now; maybe they've always been headed here ever since their first encounter, and jongin's just been trying to deny it. he wants to melt so bad -- desire is electric and jongin wants to be consumed by it.

" _this_ is why, jongin," kyungsoo grits out in a break between kisses, his lips sucking the skin of jongin's neck. jongin does nothing to stop the moan that spills from his lips and he throws his head back. "do you still need me to spell it out for you?"

"yes," jongin breathes out, peppering butterfly kisses on kyungsoo's cheeks. "preferably on the bed, please."

kyungsoo stops. he looks at jongin with a gaze that's filled with too many emotions, but there's a certain fondness and exasperation that jumps out at jongin. he's vulnerable once again.

"are you..." he whispers, some inner conflict rising within him.

"how much more convincing do you need?" jongin demands, and confidence sparks back to life in kyungsoo's eyes. then, then his lips are locked with jongin's, tongue tracing the pout of jongin's lower lip, and he pushes jongin down the bed with a strength that doesn't quite match his small frame.

they've been scarred by the war. jongin's a prisoner and kyungsoo is one of those who captured him, but he's learned long ago that kyungsoo's never wanted this. that he'd tried to negotiate between the two sides, and once that had failed, to alleviate the prisoners' conditions. and maybe, maybe their hands are both stained by blood, maybe there is no happy ending to be found here. but jongin will take tonight; he will take all he can get.

and, jongin knows, kyungsoo will do the same.

 

 

 

 

he wakes up to soft lips lingering on his body, the scent of kyungsoo wrapped around him like a second skin. jongin winds his arm around kyungsoo's waist and he presses their bodies close together. there is no boundary between them, only two hearts waiting for the perfect time to synchronize.

"is this..." kyungsoo's voice cracks a bit as his fingers find the ridges of the scars running knots down jongin's back. they're everywhere, creating paths in his skin that lead to nightmares when jongin closes his eyes. still he feels safe, content even, cocooned in these blankets with kyungsoo.

"yeah," jongin says, kissing kyungsoo's eyelids. "this was during the first time someone tried to escape from camp." he resists the ebb and flow of memory, erasing the image of the bodies left behind in the center of the tent.

kyungsoo frowns, displeased. "turn around," he says.

"why?"

"i want to see." kyungsoo looks at him, and there's something in those eyes that makes jongin obey, flipping over so his back faces kyungsoo.

jongin almost forgets to breathe when kyungsoo's lips and tongue begin to trace the ridges on his back, kyungsoo's hands coming up to grip jongin's shoulders.

"you're perfect," kyungsoo murmurs, and when something wet slips down his scars, jongin realizes that he's crying. kyungsoo is crying for _him_ , and his pulse begins to drum out an erratic beat.

"kyungsoo?" jongin says, his voice a shapeless form wobbling in the half-light. "how did you...how did you know my name? why me?"

"why not you?" kyungsoo whispers, and he presses a kiss on jongin's neck.

jongin scoffs. "come on now, kyungsoo." he can feel the smile forming on kyungsoo's lips.

"i knew who you were way before our army captured yours," he confesses. he begins to rub soothing circles on jongin's skin. "i mean, who wouldn't? you were one of the youngest, yet considered among the best of the soldiers in your army. whenever i negotiated with joonmyeon, i'd notice you standing behind him, ready to defend him at all times."

"why don't i remember seeing you, though?" jongin asks. he remembers being part of joonmyeon's guard, forever standing at attention for any instance that the enemy might attack. tension had always been at its peak during those situations and no one ever agreed to anything.

"too focused," kyungsoo chuckles. "you were always too focused on the guards who accompanied _me_ , i doubt you'd have paid any attention to the one who was actually talking to joonmyeon."

"point taken," jongin says, turning his body to face kyungsoo again. the tears have dried now. all that's left is a brightness in kyungsoo's eyes.

"do you ever think of escaping?" kyungsoo muses, running his hands through jongin's hair.

jongin freezes. "what?"

kyungsoo bites his lip. "because i do," he murmurs. "i always do. ever since kris left tao in charge during the first half of the march, i've doubted why i'm even part of this army. i thought of deserting so many times, but...something made me stay." _it's you_ , his eyes seem to say, but he doesn't make that thought concrete.

"it's your job." jongin feels helpless. "i'm not saying that this abuse is right, but --"

"i know, i know," kyungsoo says, looking away. "i'm the officer. i shouldn't be thinking like this." he sighs. "you're a better soldier than i am, jongin. you're more dedicated than i will ever be."

"don't think too much about it," jongin whispers, brushing kyungsoo's bangs away from his eyes. "okay?"

kyungsoo hums but he doesn't respond.

here, in the dark, jongin thinks of escaping. but then he thinks of the consequences, of how his pride won't ever allow him to surrender, of how he doesn't much like the thought of kyungsoo deserting either.

he closes his eyes and succumbs to sleep.

 

 

 

 

jongin's stumbling out of kyungsoo's room, on his way back to the rest of the prisoners, when tao approaches him. before he even has time to bow or acknowledge the dark-eyed commander, he's being slammed into the wall. tao's burning with fury from head to toe, and jongin groans in pain when he's kneed in the stomach, his eyes watering.

"where did they go?!" tao bellows, teeth bared with so much viciousness that it shakes jongin to the core. "tell me, or i'll cut off your pretty head --"

"get your hands off him."

jongin can't move his head, not when tao's keeping it in place with a knife pressed to his throat, but he nearly sighs in relief at the sound of kyungsoo's voice. he wonders how many times kyungsoo's always arrived to save him in the nick of time. it's a kind of dependency that he's never thought he'd be grateful for, but now jongin's thankful for it.

tao releases him and jongin staggers back, straight into kyungsoo's reassuring warmth. he gets a glimpse of kyungsoo's hardened features as he examines the shallow cut on jongin's neck. the shorter guy shifts a bit and adjusts to jongin's weight.

"kyungsoo," tao snarls. "are you being brainwashed as well?"

"i have no idea what you're talking about," kyungsoo says. "i'm sure jongin's not involved in this, either."

tao smirks, regaining his composure, but jongin can see the tendrils of fury still alive in his eyes. "chanyeol deserted," he announces, and it makes both jongin and kyungsoo stiffen. "that bastard deserted last night _and he took a goddamned prisoner with him._ " in his right hand, tao is beginning to play with the dagger.

jongin has mixed feelings. on one hand, baekhyun and chanyeol are safe -- tao's tone tells him that they haven't been caught. on the other hand, he doesn't know what to make of the fact that chanyeol's deserted his own army so easily, no matter how unreasonable their head commanders can be. it makes him think of his conversation with kyungsoo last night.

"we know nothing about this, tao," kyungsoo says. his face is blank of any emotion. "kris would testify to the fact that we haven't left this room last night. he locked us in himself."

"that's not what i came here to say," tao says, voice now teetering on the edge of dangerous. "you're being too weak, kyungsoo. before you know it, this _scum_ ," tao nearly spits the word out, "will have you wrapped around his pretty little finger and make you desert as well."

kyungsoo's eyes flash with something imperceptible. his hand tightens around jongin's waist. "don't call him that," he says, and a thrill of fear runs through jongin.

"don't call him what?" tao's tone is mocking. "scum? do you prefer motherfucker? bastard? son of a bitch? _cocksucker_ \--"

it's a blur, then, of motion and violence. jongin feels kyungsoo's hands drop away and in a blink of an eye, kyungsoo is charging at tao and tao is crumpling to the ground, hand coming up to stem the blood pouring from the split in his lip. kyungsoo looks like he's not done yet, hand already on the gun slung from a holster at his waist, and jongin recovers enough to pull him away.

kyungsoo lets him, his face still impassive. "is that what you call luhan?" kyungsoo whispers. "no wonder he won't let you touch him."

tao looks up, his eyes brimming with hate. he wipes off most of the blood on his chin. "you'll pay for this," he bites out.

they stare at each other for a long time. then, kyungsoo says,"remember why you got your position in the first place."

with a huff, tao turns on his heel and walks away.

"are you all right?" jongin asks, scanning kyungsoo's face for any injuries. there seems to be none but his heart is stuttering all the same.

"i'm fine." the look that kyungsoo's wearing is contemplative. "so baekhyun and chanyeol did go through with it..."

jongin raises an eyebrow. "so you did know about it," he says, and he doesn't know why he sounds as if he's accusing kyungsoo of a crime.

"not the details, no," kyungsoo says, shaking his head. "but i wasn't going to stop them."

jongin's eyebrows furrow. "it's not right --"

"it's the only choice they had," kyungsoo snaps. his eyes flit from side to side and he lowers his voice further so that no one can overhear the two of them. "look, i know you don't like the idea of escaping. you're buried deep in your integrity as a soldier. but jongin, _we_ have no choice as well."

"we have a choice, kyungsoo," jongin says. he's shaking all over, overcome with panic. "we --"

"tao's got his eye on you!" kyungsoo all but spits out, and it feels like jongin's crashed straight into a wall. "you're _next_ , jongin, he's going to play with you and torture you the moment i let you out of my sight. and dammit if i'm going to allow that to happen!"

_then don't let me out of your sight,_ jongin thinks. but he can't say it, not now, not ever; he can't place this burden on kyungsoo's shoulders alone. he knows this is for his own safety so he ducks his head and nods, still not liking this idea, but kyungsoo has a point.

"okay," he says, closing his eyes and exhaling. "okay."

"we won't do it now because they'll still be on guard after baekhyun and chanyeol's escape," kyungsoo says, cradling jongin's face. "but soon. i'll plan it out; just act normal."

jongin nods, but a strange feeling rises up within him. as he looks at kyungsoo's reassuring smile, he wonders if this is the beginning, or if this is the end.

he has to believe in kyungsoo.

 

 

 

 

it's hard to act normal when there are several secrets bubbling over in your chest. when jongdae tells him, white-faced, about the rumor that baekhyun and chanyeol have escaped, jongin doesn't tell him that they haven't been caught. as far as he knows, tao's fed everyone the lie that he's shot dead the two escapees.

he doesn't know how to say goodbye to jongdae. even now, the thought of leaving the friend he's made during the march doesn't quite sit well with him, but jongin contents himself with their nightly conversations. he doesn't ask if yixing's ever broached the idea of escaping to jongdae; it's a subject matter that's best left tucked in a corner where it can't hurt them.

kyungsoo's still hovering around him, eyes watchful whenever tao so much as makes a move in jongin's direction. he doesn't tell jongin about what his plans are, not even when he brings jongin to his room. but sometimes jongin can feel the urgency in kyungsoo's actions, evident in the way he's always busy with something, always in a hurry. jongin wants to help him out, but he's well-aware that there is nothing he can offer to kyungsoo.

the days pass in the camp. box cars have been rolling in and everyone's preoccupied with the final march to their destination. jongdae tells him that the place they're headed to has the jail cells and the torture chambers, and jongin tries not to let it get to him. he's just waiting, waiting for kyungsoo's signal, waiting for the plan to unfold.

it's after dinner and he's entering kyungsoo's room when he's met with a finger pressed to his lips. jongin understands right away. tonight's the night, and kyungsoo's tucking weapons inside the hidden pockets of his uniform, everything else stored in light backpacks that won't slow them down.

"are you sure about this?" jongin murmurs when kyungsoo hands him a gun. he hasn't held one for a long time, and he marvels at the extent of kyungsoo's trust in him.

"yes," kyungsoo says with a conviction that almost stuns jongin. _almost_.

and then, as if he can't bear it, he pulls jongin down for a kiss that's rough yet heated, and he's saying things that he can't say out loud. jongin hears them, loud and clear; he hears the words that are left unspoken, the sentiments that he returns, even as kyungsoo sucks bruises on his neck.

"jongin, whatever happens," kyungsoo breathes out as they come up for air, "whatever happens, just know that i'll never stop caring about you." his fingers tighten around jongin's waist. "if -- if we get caught, if they tell you everything i said isn't true, don't you dare believe them. believe in _me_ , jongin, no matter what they say. believe that not once have i ever lied to you. never, jongin, _never_."

"i believe you," jongin says and he's scared too, he's so scared that he thinks he's about to combust. "i'll always believe you."

they stand there for a moment, foreheads pressed to each other, eyes memorizing the way the other one looks. embedding the image deep in their memories: the curve of the cheek, the subtle pout of the lips, the wing-flutter of eyelashes, the softness of kiss-marked skin. _i love you_ is what they don't say, but it's those three words that seem to resonate within the tiny room.

kyungsoo breathes in. "let's go."

they manage to sneak past the guards, stumbling straight into the thick of the forest adjacent to the camp. jongin knows they're far from safe, though, and he and kyungsoo run as fast as they can. the miles fall away, distance growing between them and the camp, but they're not even halfway through kyungsoo's estimated course when they hear the telltale sounds of people coming after them. there are shouts and the thud of boots, and beams of light cut through the spaces in the trees.

jongin pushes away the anxiety that's eating him up inside. he and kyungsoo keep going, feet pounding on the forest floor, reaching for the freedom waiting for them at the other end of the forest. they're so, so close -- they just have to get there to the meet-up point, to the car that's waiting to take them away --

he sees kyungsoo fall to the ground, sees the bullet piercing him before he hears it. jongin stops and runs back body falling over kyungsoo's, and he tries to stop himself from crying when blood drips down his hands.

"jongin, go," kyungsoo says, trying to push him away. "go!"

"i'm not leaving you," jongin nearly shouts. "i'm never leaving you."

"you said that you'll believe in me no matter what." kyungsoo's eyes glisten with desperation. their pursuers are almost upon them. "believe me now, jongin, trust me. _just go_."

jongin can't. he can't, and he knows kyungsoo can see it in his eyes, because kyungsoo's looking away. "i'm sorry," he whispers.

and as the guards swarm around them, the butts of their rifles hitting jongin's body, he doesn't tear his eyes from kyungsoo's face. kyungsoo doesn't, either. there is chaos coming up to swallow them whole, and a punishment that draws too near, but all jongin can see is the light in kyungsoo’s eyes. he sees the memories of both of them together, images flashing in his mind, an endless montage of everything they’ve suffered and continue to suffer.

the medals on kyungsoo’s uniform glimmer in the weak light, and jongin’s uniform scrapes against his skin. maybe, in another lifetime, it won’t be like this. maybe, in a time different from right now, they won’t be trapped by the same circumstances. jongin holds on to that as his consciousness drifts in and out of focus, and kyungsoo starts to slip from his grasp, and he hears the familiar mocking quality of tao’s laughter.

he doesn’t let go of kyungsoo throughout the beating they’re given. even as they are brought back to the camp, their hands remain intertwined.

 

 

 

 

he's expected this.

from the moment he and kyungsoo had been caught, jongin's expected this. but it doesn't make it hurt any less, and it doesn't make him more capable of enduring the pain. he's stopped asking why tao's decided to torture him instead of killing him -- by now, the reason is clear. tao's trying to get back at kyungsoo.

ropes bind his wrists and feet, and jongin's suspended in mid-air, naked. he clenches his teeth as sweat drips into the cuts on his body, his blood pooling somewhere beneath his feet, and tao is circling him the way a lion stalks its prey. there is a whip in his hand, coated in jongin's dried blood.

"your body is impressive," tao purrs, his dark eyes eager. "no wonder kyungsoo took a shine to you. can't say he'll ever be able to enjoy it again, though." with a laugh that twists jongin's stomach, tao uncoils the whip, and soon he's lashing out at jongin's bare back.

jongin bites down on his lip, the pain tearing him apart until he is nothing but bits and pieces of flesh sewn together by suffering. a particularly hard lash has him throwing his head back and letting loose a cry. a pleased smile grows on tao's face, and jongin loses track of how many times he's whipped until he can barely hold himself up. the rope slices deep into his skin.

"where's your precious kyungsoo now?" tao murmurs against the shell of his ear. "Why hasn't he come to save you?"

jongin shuts his eyes and searches for air. that's the thing that kills him, that destroys him: the uncertainty. he doesn't know if kyungsoo's still alive. all he remembers is the way they'd wrenched him apart from kyungsoo, and it's a feeling that hurts more than a thousand lashings, eating up his heart.

but then, jongin thinks, he's not sure he wants kyungsoo to be alive if he's only going to go through the same thing. he doesn't want to imagine kyungsoo tied up like he is, hanging from the ceiling, a whip marring his pale skin. he doesn't want to think of the blood running down the shorter guy's body, of the torture that will be more than his small frame can bear.

deserters are lower than escapees in this world.

at some point, jongin blacks out. he drifts in a sea of memories -- sehun laughing as he hits all the targets in a straight row; his mother ironing his uniform; his father saying, _i'm so proud of you, jongin_ ; jongdae singing him a lullaby on a night when the stars are dead; baekhyun giving him a tentative smile.

kyungsoo, wrapping gauze around his ankle. kyungsoo, sneaking him a piece of bread. kyungsoo, his hand warm on jongin's elbow, protective and possessive. kyungsoo, crying out his name, eyes shut and lips parted. kyungsoo, kyungsoo, _kyungsoo_.

jongin jolts awake to a mind-numbing chill, his scar-torn body laid out to rest on blocks of ice. it's more than he can bear, shivers ripping through his skin, and screams pour out every time a scar rubs against the cold surface of the ice. he can't breathe, he can't think. here, he is condensed to a wretched soul; here, his body is damaged and broken, and he is past the point of anyone's help.

jongin's senses are dead to the world by the time he is thrown back to his cell, curling up instinctively in a corner. he falls asleep to endless nightmares.

tender hands on his skin and the harsh heat of the sun pulls jongin out of his disturbed dreams. yixing's face swims into view and jongin almost cries in relief. he winces as yixing applies salves and ointments to his wounds, covering his body in bandages.

he doesn't want to drag yixing into this predicament. he doesn't want that, and so the question he asks is, "how's jongdae?"

yixing's gaze flickers up to meet his, bleak and dark. "he died two days ago." his voice is soft, but there is a frisson of despair running underneath. "he was sick and he didn't tell me."

jongin doesn't know what to say. jongdae's gone. his powerful voice won't ever break the silence again -- he won't ever become the singer he's always wanted to be. jongin feels like he’s suffocating just a little bit more, drowning deeper in sorrow, because jongdae’s been one of the few friends he had left. now all he has is an impression of a man who weaves melodies through the air; a man, strong and kind and talented, slipping off the face of the earth like everyone else.

as yixing stands up, jongin asks one last question: "what about kyungsoo?"

and sadness steals across yixing's face, a kind of sadness that makes jongin's heart ache. "you don't want to know."

 

 

 

 

jongin's dragged out his cell when the sun's a cocktail mix of bruised blue and purple, no strength left in his legs for him to attempt walking. he passes by shadows blending in with grimy walls, separated from the rest of the world by metal bars, and jongin doesn't know how many lives have rusted here. the guards give no clue as to where they're headed.

it's when they're out in the open, jongin's knees scraping on dirt and grass, that he understands. and maybe, maybe it's also the fact that he sees tao and kris and at least ten more guards up ahead, waiting for him.

so he will die this way, then: a spectacle of grief.

he's thrown to the ground in front of tao, and jongin's face to face with boots that kick him to the side. then tao's pulling him up, the smirk on his face more pronounced, and he's not listening to kris' commands of _stop it, tao_. "i have a surprise for you," tao says, sounding pleased. "i think you'll like it."

jongin gathers what last bits of courage he has, and he spits in tao's face. the taller guy's eyes darken, but before he can so much as beat jongin up, kris' hand is prying them apart.

"that's enough, tao," kris says, his voice firm. "what you're doing is already too much."

tao glares at jongin and jongin glares back, but soon the officer is mollified. "let him see the surprise," he calls. before jongin can even guess at what new kind of torture they've set up for him, he's being turned around, and dry sobs heave from his throat.

kyungsoo raises his head to look at him, his skin black and blue with cuts and bruises. he forces a smile on his face when he sees jongin, light dawning bright in his eyes, and for a second jongin thinks everything's all right. then kyungsoo reaches out a hand and tao hits his arm, and kyungsoo lets out a cry of pain along with a strangled protest from jongin. kris steps in to restrain tao from doing anything more.

"the star-crossed lovers," tao taunts. "how fitting. how..." his lips twist with an emotion jongin can't define. "...sickening."

"quiet, tao," kris snaps. tao's face is sullen at the rebuke. kris lets go of tao and pushes him aside, and soon he's dismissing the other guards.

it's only the four of them standing here on this plain, tao glowering behind kris, jongin and kyungsoo just pathetic lumps of flesh unable to pick themselves up from the ground.

"i shouldn't have agreed to this," kris mutters.

"you promised," tao says, voice pitching higher in what is almost a whine.

kris is silent. "stand up," he says, and kyungsoo winces as he gets to his feet. so does jongin.

the sharp-eyed commander pushes a gun into kyungsoo's hands and kyungsoo stares at it, uncomprehending. but jongin sees it and he swallows, and he knows where this is going. as kris pushes the muzzle of the gun against jongin's chest, kyungsoo realizes it too, and he begins to tremble.

"jongin," kyungsoo says, and tears begin to fall from his eyes. his lips quiver and jongin just wants to hold him close. " _jongin_."

"officer do, take my command," tao says, rubbing his hands with glee. "ready, aim."

kyungsoo's shaking his head. "no," he says. "no, no, no, no, no."

kris throws an arm out to stop tao from advancing. "stay where you are," he orders, and tao pouts.

"jongin, i love you," kyungsoo whispers, and he looks so broken right now.  
  
they'll never be healed, jongin thinks. they'll never be healed and they'll never be saved. but there are consequences that kyungsoo will face if he doesn't follow orders, and if jongin's death will ensure his safety at least, then this is the last thing jongin will ever do for kyungsoo. the _only_ thing he will ever do, and only for kyungsoo.

"forget me," he says, grasping the muzzle of the gun and keeping it in place, even as kyungsoo cries harder. "forget everything. forget that you ever loved me, kyungsoo. _do it_."

"i can't," kyungsoo sobs.

there is a click and tao's gun is out, aiming directly at kyungsoo's head, and anxiety surges through jongin.

"this is unnecessary. put that down, tao," kris growls out but tao just primes his gun.

"he has a rifle, kris," tao says, gaze unwavering. "if he so much as moves a muscle in a different direction, _the bullet will go through his head this time_."

"kyungsoo," jongin says, his tone urgent now. "kyungsoo, i don't love you. i don't love you, okay, so forget me already!"

horror crosses kyungsoo's face. "no," he whimpers.

"i don't love you," jongin continues, and he's rambling but he doesn't care. "i never loved you."

kyungsoo's biting his lip and he can barely breathe or see from the tears, but the look on his face tells jongin that he's starting to believe it. and it hurts, it makes his heart ache, because it isn't supposed to be this easy.

"officer do." tao's voice rings out. kris stares at the ground. "officer do, _fire_."

kyungsoo shuts his eyes, his finger settling on the trigger. jongin burns this last image of kyungsoo into his memories. _useless_ , he thinks with a wry smile. _i'm about to die_.

this is it, his last breath of life. he thinks of sehun, of jongdae, of baekhyun -- of his parents, and finally coming home to a place better than the hell that is this world. his mind lingers on kyungsoo.

a single gunshot shatters the landscape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**a/n:** beta-ed by the lovely [](http://caressingflames.livejournal.com/profile)[**caressingflames**](http://caressingflames.livejournal.com/).  



End file.
